AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Beyond the chutes, the rodeo started with the traditional parading of colors, the national anthem, and a prayer. Then the action began. After last night’s elimination round, this was the final in which the cowboys and cowgirls would compete for buckles, prize money, and points to boost their national standing.
The open layout of the arena allowed a partial view from the pens. The first buckles were awarded in team roping, steer wrestling, and tiedown events. The young McKenna brothers took first place in bareback and saddle bronc. And the petite Cheyenne McKenna surpassed her personal best time to win in barrel racing.
After more events, it was time for bull riding. Excitement rippled through the crowd as the arena crew rolled out the safety barrels and the bullfighters, dressed in clown gear and makeup, took their places.
Rocket Man would be bucking fourth, Quicksand last of eight bulls. Brock shadowed Tess as her first bull was herded into the narrow pen and fitted with his flank strap. Rocket Man was an older bull, easy in the chute but a solid bucker. Tess had few worries as he entered the empty bucking chute without any resistance.
The first two bulls had bucked off their riders out of the gate. The third, a rank, spotted bovine named Monkey Business, gave his cowboy a six-second ride before hurling him in the dust, then wheeling in a head-down charge. The clowns sprang in to distract the bull, giving the rider a few seconds to scramble to safety. The crowd roared its excitement. Next it would be Rocket Man’s turn.
The bull tossed his head as Cody Barnes dropped onto his back. Working above the chute to steady him while Brock pulled the young cowboy’s rope, Tess was too busy to wonder whether she was being watched. Only after the ride had qualified with a good score of 87 and she was unfastening the flank strap did she realize her hands were shaking.
“Are you all right?” Brock asked as the bull trotted back down the passage to his pen.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Let’s go get Quicksand ready for his big show.”
By the time he was herded into the small holding pen to get his flank strap, Quicksand was behaving like an oversize toddler in meltdown mode. He was swinging his massive head and shoulders, banging against the thick steel rails. It was as if he was sensing Tess’s own anxiety and acting on it.
Tess thought of the sage bundle she’d thrust into the deep pocket of her jacket. She should have lit it for him earlier. Now it was too late. By the time she and Brock maneuvered the soft, cotton strap around Quicksand’s flanks and fastened it securely, the next empty bucking chute was waiting for him.
Quicksand was herded into the chute. His eyes were rolling, showing the whites. Was he afraid or angry?
As the current rider lasted eight seconds on his bull for the highest score of the night, cheers went up from the grandstand. The extra noise wasn’t helping. Quicksand was bucking and slamming harder than ever.
Santos, a legendary rider, currently fourth in world standings, waited on the platform above the chute, dressed in a protective vest, long-fringed chaps, and spurs with blunted rowels, designed to help control the bull without hurting him. As the announcer boomed out the next ride over the P.A., mentioning that Quicksand had never been ridden, Santos lowered himself onto the bull’s back.
When the rider’s weight settled over him, Quicksand quivered and stopped struggling. As Brock pulled the rope tight and Santos wrapped it around his gloved hand, the bull became a massive ebony statue. Not so much as an ear twitched.
Watching from the platform above the chute, Tess felt her heart plummet. This was bad. More than bad. It was a nightmare. “Please, Quicksand,” she begged in a whisper. “Please buck. I know you can.”
The seasoned rider, seemingly unaware of the problem, shifted his weight behind his hand and nodded to the gate man. The gate swung open. Quicksand stood there, quivering, as if afraid to move.
Santos, as cool as winter rain, raised his leg slightly and kicked the bull’s side hard with the blunted rowel of his spur.
Quicksand exploded like a shooting star.
As the bull flew out of the gate, starting the clock, Santos balanced with each move, back straight, arm high and pumping. Quicksand shot into the air again and again, twisting and spinning. By the time the clock had reached six seconds, the crowd was screaming. They were witnessing a great ride.
Then, at seven seconds, Quicksand made his move. A sudden direction change in midleap threw Santos off-balance. He flew to one side, landing on his feet in the dirt.
Wheeling in his tracks, Quicksand charged his rider. The clown who’d stepped into his path grabbed his single horn, only to be tossed high over the bull’s back. A few wild seconds later, Santos had scrambled to safety. The clown was on his feet, and the roper was herding Quicksand through the exit gate.
The numbers came up on the big screen. No points for the rider, 96.5 points for the bull. An incredible score.
Tess, with Brock at her side, couldn’t stop the tears as she unfastened Quicksand’s flank strap in the narrow chute. “That was amazing!” she said, speaking to her bull. “I knew you could do it, big boy!”
“I knew he could do it, too.” Santos stood on the other side of the chute. “He’d forgotten who and what he was. He just needed a nudge to remind him.”
“I couldn’t believe you knew what to do,” Tess said.
The handsome Brazilian smiled. “In my time, I’ve ridden close to a thousand bulls, all different,” he said. “As you Americans are fond of saying, this isn’t my first rodeo.”
“But you deserved to ride him for the full eight seconds. You were magnificent!”
“Quicksand was the magnificent one. It was an honor to be matched with such a bull.” Reaching through the rails, Santos gave Quicksand’s shoulder a pat. “We’ll meet again, big boy. And then we’ll see which of us is the boss.”
* * *
As Santos walked away and Quicksand trotted down the passage to his pen, Brock put an arm around Tess and hugged her. This was a joyous moment, a brief celebration to be shared. But somewhere in the crowded arena, a cold-blooded killer watched and waited. Brock needed to get them both to safety.
